Six Feet Under The Stars
by RainingMonday
Summary: Five years in the future, a dark presence stalking Seattle puts Gabriel Shepherd and Brecken Sloan in grave danger. Relationships are broken and formed as their parents struggle to keep them safe and the world comes crumbling down. MerDer and Maddison.
1. As The World Crashes Around Your Ankles

~*~** Six Feet Under The Stars **~*~

**Welcome to my new story! I will be finishing Runaway World but this kind of intruded so I had to write it. And yes, there are stories with similar plotlines, but this is different, I promise. And it will mostly be about MerDer and Maddison, but also Calzona, Owina, Lexzie, and Lexie/Jackson.**

* * *

She always knows.

It's not just that tension permeates the room, stinging her nostrils with noxious tendrils. It's also not just that dread hangs over the room full of navy-scrubbed attendings like frost that will not be banished, even under the benevolent hand of spring.

Her heart accelerates, pumping oxygenated blood ever-more quickly into her left atrium which leads to her left ventricle which pushes the blood out into the network of veins that map out her body, but although there should be an excess of clarity in response to her racing bodily functions, there isn't. Instead, swallowing seems a gargantuan task, breathing an unwelcome ordeal.

Then Derek's hand, fine-fingered and warm, laces itself with hers, and for a moment, she is gifted with the lucidity that has been eluding her, and the air in her system is rich and nourishing again. He can sense things about her before she can, sometimes, something that would have scared the hell out of her a few years ago. These days, she just goes with it, because the alternative, basically being ripped in half, is extremely unappealing.

And as Derek squeezes her fingers tighter, her mind drifts to another living, breathing, smiling, laughing body that is the byproduct of the two of them, a boy with a grin so bright sometimes she swears it could light the entire city, the child that denies semblance to the angel who shares his name, despite his looks, when she finds him in the pantry covered in smears of chocolate.

*'~

"_I'm telling you that you're wrong, Dr. Shepherd."_

"_Well, I think you're_ _in denial, Dr. Shepherd."_

_Meredith sat on the edge of the bed simply to have an excuse to calm her fidgeting limbs. She'd already paced the sunlit bedroom a few hundred times, stuffed still-clean scrubs into the laundry, and pulled the comforter haphazardly over the bed. All to have something to do. Anything to avoid grabbing the box in her husband's hand._

"_This is ridiculous!" she huffed, her spine uncurling as her body stretched in the streaming sunlight as her hand unconsciously found a spot on the apex of her stomach."I'm not pregnant, Derek, and I think I would know."_

_Derek grinned, and despite herself she felt her knees grow just a little weak, felt her resistance eroded just a little more. "I know your cycle, Mer."_

"_That's kind of creepy, you know."_

"_Well, I have to pay attention to when I can touch your boobs and when I can't. If I didn't, I'd be in the doghouse as often as Mark and that would make the hot sex a lot less convenient."_

"_You're incorrigible."_

"_But you love me." Derek cornered her, pressing her up against the bluebell wall of their bedroom so she could feel their bodies touching in all the right places, igniting the sparks of chemistry that usually accompanied them. She breathed deeper, suffused in his scent, mint and thyme and Burberry, as he began to place butterfly light kisses against her lips. She leaned forward hungrily, insistently, but Derek pulled back, sapphire eyes dancing, and proffered the white box again._

"_Just take the test, Mer, please? If it's negative, fine, you win, and I'll do you exactly one favor." His grin was bright, tantalizing, promising things that stained her neck and cheeks in rosy pink. "But if it's positive, and I think it is … well, we'll have something to celebrate, won't we?"_

"_Fine," she grumbled, partially out of a desire to prove him wrong, but mostly because when he looked at her like that he unlocked places deep inside of her that she hadn't previously known existed. She slipped the box from his fingers and pranced toward the bathroom. "But order me a pepperoni pizza while we're waiting, will you?"_

_Derek muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "you are so pregnant," but she ignored him as she disappeared into the bathroom. As she peed on the little white stick, all the while rolling her eyes, she was already planning how to use the favor Derek promised._

_But while she ate pizza and smirked triumphantly at her husband, the betraying little stick turned blue._

_*'~_

Her breath catches as Richard gets slowly to his feet to pace in front of them; she sees the dread following every footstep, her heart clenches and releases. It's like she's living one of those fairytales and she's stuck in the part where the main character is on the cusp of a very bad revelation, like that the angry, fire-breathing dragon is on its way, or that the knight in shining armor will not be coming to rescue her after all. Not that she every required such a knight, nor had one until Derek, but his mere presence allows her lungs to expand just a little more with each breath.

It seems as though the room takes a collective breath before Richard opens his mouth. "As of this morning … we have evidence that Robert Lawson is in Seattle."

The effect of these words would have stunned a stranger, Meredith muses as she tries to restrain the tears pricking her eyes. The beads of moisture rebel and make two wet, shining trails down her cheeks. Beside her, Derek's hand clenches tighter around hers, and she can hear Addison's soft, horrified gasp and Mark grinding his teeth. Despite herself and futility of the action, Meredith allows her voice to join the cacophony of yells that assault Richard as he tries to restore calm.

"How do you know that? You can't know that!"

"It can't be!"

"I thought San Francisco was the last one!"

"Silence!" Richard finally thunders, and the attendings sheepishly obey. The diamond tears are still racing down her cheeks but the room has a strange crystal clearness, Meredith can see everything from Izzie's sympathetic face to Mark's arms tight around Addison, who is shaking like a lone leaf in a hurricane.

"We know because 4-year-old Jake McKinnon went missing this morning from daycare," Richard says, his voice an anomalous illusion of calm. "We suspect because the boy just disappeared – the daycare says he was there one minute, and gone the next. I'm telling you all because if this man really is in Seattle, we want to get one of these kids back alive."

The room erupts in noise again, but Meredith isn't looking at her distressed colleagues, she's staring at the door, behind which, somewhere, her son is playing happily, unaware of the danger. "Go get them," Addison instructs Mark in a desperate whisper, and though Meredith wants to run after the Head of Plastics or send Derek behind him, she knows that he was the running back and star sprinter of the track team while Derek ran distance.

So she waits, counting every second until Gabriel is back in her arms.

*'~

"_Congratulations, man. Really," Mark said, trying to effuse his voice with real sincerity, but it was difficult to distill when his own wife had failed to carry a child in her womb for the last six months. She blamed herself for ruining their chances by aborting their first child, maintaining that God was punishing her by making her unable to bear children; Naomi's tests had, in her mind, proven their greatest fear._

_It was awful, but he was relieved it wasn't him, that he wasn't to blame for the fact that their house wasn't filled with giggles and cries amongst all the excess rain._

"_Thanks," Derek said, unable to quench his wide grin. "Meredith insisted for days that she wasn't, but …" he stopped, Mark suspected, because he couldn't control the clenching of his jaw, a profusion of unadulterated pain. At one time Derek Shepherd would have done anything to hurt him, after his and Addison's betrayal, but these days their friendship was mostly holding together._

"_I'm so sorry, Mark. Are you two still not having any luck?" Derek asked softly._

"_Yeah. I mean, I know we're supposed to wait a year before getting worried, but all those tests Naomi did that one time are freaking her out."_

_Derek smiled sympathetically, but Mark knew there was no way his friend could truly empathize, as he would become a father in less than nine months."Well … tell her hi for me. Next Saturday, again?"_

"_Sure," Mark grunted before pushing his elegant front door, framed by French taupe siding, open. "Addie?" he called into the echoing empty space, perfectly decorated and spotlessly clean with white trim, pale wood floors, and eggshell colored walls. "Addison?"_

_His heartbeat quickened at the lack of response under his soft t-shirt, the color of the Manhattan mist he used to know so well. His hand curled around the collar of the shirt; ever since her marriage began to disintegrate she hovered at the edge of a cliff he could never completely pull her away from. When he pushed the bathroom door open, she was crouched in the semi-darkness, sobs ripping from her body, a blank white stick clutched in one clenched fist._

"_I thought you were going to wait for me," he whispered to her huddled form, because if there were going to be tears she usually wanted his assistance in wiping them away, and if there was disappointment they weathered it together._

_Her eyes haunted him, ripped a hole in his heart, and he decided maybe her empty uterus needed another firm talking to, once she was asleep, of course._

_There were no more words for this occasion; they were all used up by previous failures, so Mark sank down beside her to stroke her rumpled strawberry curls, the only comfort he could offer. As they danced through shards of shared misery, Mark noticed her discarded panties lying on the floor. They were spotted with a bit of blood, the beginnings of her period, and the results of the stick in her hand were confirmed without him every laying eyes on it._

"_It was just the flu," she choked before bending over to empty her stomach into the toilet._

_*'~_

Her tears adorn Derek's fingers as he wipes them from her cheeks, and though they strive for comfort there is none to be had in this godforsaken city. And although she never believed in all that _knight in shining armor _shit she finds herself gripping desperately at the stronghold that is Derek's warm, scrub-covered chest. As he threads his hand through her golden locks she is reminded of how he is always willing to be here, by her side, for anything, even if she just needs the mind-numbing presence of human pain reliever.

Richard continues to talk, but she can't hear him. There's only one voice she'll respond to.

"Mama!" Mark walks in with the two boys using him as they might a brilliantly colored jungle gym, Brecken hanging on with only a grip on Mark's ear for support and Gabriel tangled around one muscled elbow like a monkey.

It is difficult to believe anything can hurt Gabe when Mark deposits him unceremoniously into her arms, his forest green eyes glowing with excitement and his soft chestnut hair, which curls adorably around ears that stick out just a bit too far, slightly rumpled from a morning of play. A plastic Bob the Builder, painted overalls chipped, hangs out of one cord pocket, which are paired with lime rubber boots with frog faces and the thermal snowman pajama shirt she couldn't get him to relinquish that morning.

"Mama, can we play doctor now?" he asks, his eager effusions that paint the dull conference room in a rainbow of colors only make the danger more stingingly pungent. Her son is so full of life and happiness and pure, unadulterated joy that she can't imagine him not growing up, can't not picture him as the skinny, lanky star of his very first soccer team, can't stop envisioning him searching his chin for that first hint of dark scruff as he becomes uncoordinated with a voice like fireworks. He _will _walk across that stage to get his diploma, exuding confidence; will wait for a girl to waltz gracefully down the aisle into his arms.

She _knows _this. She's thought about it with too much wistful melancholy since he's grown big enough to run out of her arms, reach the first shelf on the snack cupboard and tie his tiny Converse not to know.

"Mommy, please? I want to use your stefesoap!" Gabe begs, wriggling in her arms impatiently.

"In a second, honey," she responds automatically, reveling in each instant she gets to squeeze him to her chest without abandon before he runs off to explore his bright, sparkly four-year-old world.

"Why you squeezin' me so tight?" he squeals, giggling and pressing a sloppy, affectionate kiss to her cheek before dropping to the floor, his shirt sliding up his tanned belly, the baby roundness of which hasn't quite faded.

"Sorry," she murmurs, but he's already moved on, already tugged the deep copper-headed Brecken from Addison's reluctant arms. Belatedly, she notices the entire room watching the antics of her child and his best friend; Derek's hand moves protectively to rest against her hip.

"People," Richard attempts to lure the doctors' attention away from the two boys, but she can't deal with his pity right now, doesn't want to shoulder anyone's, really, and yet Cristina's sorrowful gaze is burning into the back of her head. "We will be working closely with the police and the FBI in order to solve this case, and the bodies, when found, will be brought here to be analyzed -,"

"We're leaving," she interrupts in a shaky voice. Sure, Gabriel and Brecken are mostly oblivious to the Chief's grave words that spin the beginnings of disaster around them, but she wants to protect her son as long as humanely possible. He may be in danger, just like every other four-year-old in the city, but that doesn't mean he has to know about it.

Gabe still fits in her arms perfectly when she scoops him up but he awards her efforts with the same face as the day she arrived home to find Derek and Mark had let the boys watch Pirates of the Caribbean when she had specifically forbidden them to. It's hard to resist eyes filled with the perfect emerald of spring after an endless rain but Gabriel's safety ranks above his nigh irresistible pleads today.

"Dr. Grey -" Richard begins, then as she doesn't halt, "Meredith!"

"We're leaving," Addison repeats in an ice cold voice that brokers no argument, Meredith stifles a grin, she's sure Richard got a taste of the north pole.

The drive home is laced with restless worry, her fingers dance across the relatively new dove leather of their Lexus SUV as she watches the weeping sky outside. She can see Mark and Addison's headlights behind them, pinpricks of luminosity in the dreary surroundings. Gabe is playing with Bob the Builder, walking the small plastic figure across his knees and talking softly, utterly oblivious to the peril he faces.

When they arrive home, she allows the oak and buttermilk light spilling from their majestic house to embrace her, but it doesn't comfort her like it usually does. This isn't a sanctuary any more than the hospital is, no matter how many memories are safely encased in the familiar walls.

The magnets on the fridge, in shades of fire engine red and carrot orange and kiwi green, mock her with their inherent cheerfulness, a reminder that this morning, they were happy, this morning Gabriel's greatest danger came from shooting orange juice out of his nose when he laughed too hard, this morning she couldn't find him because he hid in his tree shaped tent and when he popped out, eyes alight with mischief, she swore she'd born a sprite, not a human child.

Brecken and Gabriel tumble a waterfall of toys down from their usual nooks and crannies, and before long Mario, in a remote control car, is chasing Luigi (in a similar vehicle) around a Fischer-Price dragon guarded castle. Meredith finds herself entranced by their play, and she doesn't intercede even when Brecken gives up on catching Gabe's Luigi and tackles the lime and cobalt car, sending Gabriel into a fit. Because their eyes, sapphire and emerald, and their cheeks, flushed with exertion, are both so undeniably precious – she often considers them both her sons and knows Addison does the same – and so infinitely fragile, like they are constructed of the most delicate glass.

"I can't believe this is happening," Addison whispers brokenly. "This isn't happening."

But it is.

"Addie, the chances of them …"

"Just shut up about the chances, Mark!" Addison snaps at her husband, Mark ruffles the back of his hair, intricate, perfect web of muscles straining under his shirt as he does. Addison finally succumbs to tears; however, as Meredith knew she wouldn't do in public (she found her that supply closet after the end of her marriage), and Mark slides his hands over her silk covered sides, easing her long, skinny limbs into his embrace. As he does so, Meredith heads for the kitchen and selects four glasses along with a certain bottle as she tries not to look at the picture of the broccoli dinosaur Gabriel drew her last week (the hospital has an integrated daycare-preschool, one of the top in the country after Richard's four best surgeons had kids, and apparently broccoli has been deemed 'evil').

The tequila greets her tongue with a familiar burn as she consumes it, and soon the liquid is sunk deep in the bottle. Derek's head is in his hands, purple rings frame Mark's eyes (she remembers he just had a ten hour surgery) and Addison is completely inebriated and humming softly against the soft cotton of Mark's ash grey Henley.

They're adults, surgeons, but they're not trained to deal with this.

"No! I wants to be Jack!" Brecken's piercing trill interrupts their melancholy phobias as the four-year-old grabs a hold of one end of the plastic sword Gabriel is clinging to as if it is life itself.

"No, Brecken, _I _called Jack!" Gabe cries,.

"I can be a better Jack than you! Watch this, I can even stab Mommy!" Brecken breaks free, landing both boys on the ground but happening to end up with the sword, which he promptly brings down on Addison's black tight-swathed knee repeatedly, finally garnering the adults' full attention.

"Brecken, Gabe," Addison scolds. "Remember what we talked about? We only use swords to …"

"Cut up fruit," the boys reply, rolling their eyes adorably. Meredith chokes back a laugh, Addison read an article last month in one of the parenting magazines she somehow has time to read that explained the effects of violent video games and play on young boys and her subsequent freak out had resulted in the fruit rule. Not that either of the boys followed it, nor that she enforced it often.

Frown decorating his cherubic face, Gabriel trots into the kitchen and returns with a bright yellow banana, which he and Brecken proceed to stab dejectedly on her feather grey carpet. She's glad Mark is laughing into his elbow and Addison's lethal glare is directed at him because now they are all barely restraining hilarity. And her son is so alive, so unique, so unsuspectingly, devastatingly beautiful, that she can't imagine a boy practically radiating light to be in any danger at all.

Eventually they fall asleep in a heap like newborn puppies, caramel and strawberry locks curled with sweat and the sweet aroma of baby shampoo surrounding them. Tucked into Gabriel's Dr. Seuss themed bed, they seem more a part of one boy than two, something she wouldn't have completely been able to fathom unless she'd met Derek and Mark; it makes sense that their sons are the same.

Addison and Mark take the guest room; or rather Mark carries her to it and kisses her forehead tenderly. She and Derek bid them a soft goodnight as Mark slips Addison's ridiculous heels to the floor and leave as the Plastic surgeon sheds his shirt for the barely awake redhead to sleep in instead.

She and Derek tumble into bed where her salty tears once again begin to flow. Amidst her sobs she tugs Derek's button down shirt from his arms, desiring to feel his skin against hers. Derek gently attempts to restrain her, but her top and bra are gone as well and she presses her beating heart up to his and revels in the soft sigh that follows.

"What are we going to do?" she finally whispers.

"It'll be okay," Derek promises, because it's all he still possesses. He threads his fingers through her hair, joins their foreheads, their chests, and pulls the rest of their clothes from their bodies as he pulls her impossibly close. It's not about sex, not tonight, although this is a deviation from their usual pattern. Tonight it's about the livewire of Derek's feverish skin on hers as they fall asleep cradled in each others arms. "It'll be okay," he says one last time.

The problem is he can't promise that.

*'~~'*

**So I hoped you liked it! Please let me know if I should continue.**

*'~~'*


	2. We Huddle Under The Star Strewn Sky

~*~** Six Feet Under The Stars **~*~

**I forgot to mention last chapter that Six Feet Under the Stars is a song by All Time Low, who I've seen live, they're very good if you have the chance to go see them (they're on tour right now). Also, regarding this story – I'm glad some people liked it but I'd really like to hear from more people. Even just a small comment really would make my day because I've been working really hard on this story.**

* * *

The droplets clinging to each individual blade of grass mock her with their perfection.

She stands on the porch, hugging her thick sweater, the color of Bavarian cream, closer to her body as she watches her son run through their dewdrop laced yard, the sun barely rising over the horizon and causing the drops of water to shine silver.

It cannot mask the dread, however, that lingers beside her like a second shadow.

The sleeves of Brecken's maroon and white striped sweatshirt trail water as he weaves his way through the grass she needs to remind Mark to mow. He circles the oak that adorns their backyard, arms stretched out, an angelic grin decorating his face, and her heart pounds angrily against her sternum as she watches the miracle that is her son.

His laughter is so beautiful it hurts her heart.

They left Derek and Meredith's house in the pearly blue predawn hours, Brecken's warm body clutched to her chest, to ensure they had ample time to change their clothes before their adventure to the pumpkin patch. Brecken squirmed as she fitted his small energetic limbs in something suitable for their outing and the weather, which recently has carried just a hint of frost, but in the end she supposes it doesn't matter to the four-year-old that he is wearing dark wash designer jeans and tiny black Vans.

As she watches Brecken immerse himself in the mystical, evanescent play of childhood, she feels the soft brush of down against the length of cream skin between her macchiato-colored pencil skirt and knit booties. Milo purrs softly, sending soft reverberations through her tense skin as he slips past her and out into the dew-swathed, Brecken-infested yard.

She allows a small smile to flit across her face as the inevitable happens – Brecken catches sight of Milo, lets out a cry of, "Kitty!", and proceeds to sprint after the blur of orange fur. She thinks perhaps Milo ought to have learned his lesson by now, learned that if Brecken catches him he'll be squeezed to an inch of his life.

The sun reflects off her son's bronzed curls, which are intermixed with natural sprigs of the pure gold of Mark's childhood. His hair color is inexplicable; a perfect mix of the two of theirs, but then again, his mere conception was shrouded in mystery so she's not exactly surprised.

"Kitty! Kitty! Come here!"

A small noise catches her attention, and she turns to see Mark has traced a heart in the condensation on the window with the tip of his finger. She rolls her eyes at the shirtless man cooking breakfast, or actually, swearing as he nurses a burnt finger, plaid pajama pants slung low on his hips, and strides out into the sea of green grass toward their child.

But when Mark looks up again, he sees she has written 'love you too' on the other side of the glass.

*'~

"_I think the baby wants some turkey," Meredith giggled as Derek skimmed his hand over her slightly rounded belly, taking in each curve of smoothed skin that protected their child. Her skin had a healthy, white autumn glow, and as they lay in their bedroom, the cool air playing over their bare skin, she wondered what she had done to deserve such a life._

"_He or she has good taste then," Derek smiled as they gazed out at the maple harvest moon, starting their Thanksgiving, for each other, at least, a little early. They were allocated a few more blissful seconds of peace before a loud screeching followed by a earsplitting scream sounded from the yard._

"_What _now_?" she moaned._

"_It's my family, so you never know," Derek warned while he hunted for his jeans. He threw a button down shirt for her over the bed and she caught it and slipped it over her shoulders quickly. "I swear, if Mark and Addison are having sex on the porch swing again I'm going to …"_

"_Bad images, Der," Meredith complained, covering her ears as he tugged her outside. The autumn air bit at her skin softly, producing shivers as she took in the scene in front of her._

_About thirty turkeys, the color of melted chocolate so dark it was almost black, were sprinting and squawking through her yard. Nancy, who had apparently been taking a midnight stroll (she was in a fuzzy ballerina bathrobe that probably belonged to one of her kids) was in the middle of the turkeys, screaming her head off. Annette, Kathleen, and Kristie were all stifling giggles, whereas Addison, clad only in a blanket, tugged Mark's bare arm, muscles illuminated by moonlight, urgently._

"_Mark! Go get a gun and shoot one or something!" she shrieked, red hair forming a flaming halo around her head._

"_But we have a turkey, don't we?" Annette asked cautiously._

"_No, Mark forgot it," Addison snorted. "He bought three bottles of scotch and no turkey. Honey, get out there and get one!"_

"_I don't think Mer owns a gun, darling," Mark said sarcastically._

"_I don't care!" Addison ranted. "You and Derek get out there and frickin catch one then!"_

_A loud laugh spilled from Meredith's pink lips as her husband and his best friend walked cautiously out to the still running turkeys and tried to corner one. Each time they got close, however, their target would squawk loudly and run around them, eliciting shrieks from both Mark and Derek._

"_Go! Get that one!" Addison was yelling, as the four sisters were bent over double with laughter and Kristie got the entire thing on her camera phone. Carolyn had appeared and asked what was going on without an apparent answer and Meredith simply wrapped her arms tight around her developing child and laughed._

*'~

"Mama! I almos' had the kitty!" Brecken squeals when she lifts him, despite the fact that Milo is halfway across the yard, fur on end as he creeps away from the child's eager hands. She kisses the crown of his head and tucks him against her hip as she moves back toward their house, but she can't help the glance she throws over her shoulder, searching the tart apple grass of quintessential fairytale for a drop of danger.

Unconsciously, she compartmentalizes their fear as she watches them bend over the bright orange lumps, searching for perfection that is defined differently by each of them. Derek is engaged in his angsty pout, he could have minored in looking tortured if it was offered. Mark, on the other hand, seems at a loss, despite the fact that he is sending angry glares at anyone who comes within five feet of their party. Meredith is hovering over Gabe, rambling a bit as she kneels, the tips of her boots caked with mud. The contrast with Ellis's parenting style is obvious.

And her? Well, she pretends, because that's all she's ever learned how to do. She used to dress up in frilly, overlarge wedding dresses behind her mother's back and pretend she was a lost princess misplaced in the wrong family (and if Archer was nice that day, he could escape too when she got rescued), she also learned from her mother the art of pretending nothing was amiss, even when the world was about to implode. She's an expert at pretend.

Brecken wanders from Mark's side, who doesn't notice as he is comparing his pumpkin's size to Derek's. She bites her lip, restraining herself from pulling one of her $900 boots from the mud to chase after him. He's fine. He's still well within her sight. But she misses the days when he cried if he wasn't cradled up against her chest.

"You've got to be kidding me, Mark. Mine wins. Give me my money," Derek's voice sounds, and she shakes her head at the childish nature of the two best friends.

"Nuh uh, Shep. Mine is wider – you have to take in girth as well as height."

"Have I informed you lately that you two are idiots?" Addison snaps playfully as she helps Brecken lift the misshapen orange orb he has chosen. Meredith argues with Gabriel by her side, trying to convince him that the gourd he has chosen is not a funny looking pumpkin and will be impossible to carve.

"At least they're making bets about vegetables," she points out to Addison in a whisper. "It could be worse. Derek's been hinting about babies lately." Addison barely restrains herself from folding her hand over her empty uterus – she doesn't have much hope for another baby, although she'd jump at any chance.

"Addie, Mer, we're going to weigh our pumpkins!" Derek calls, both he and Mark hefting the large orange vegetables and grunting like the macho men they think they are. Brecken and Gabe run behind their fathers into the barn while she and Meredith follow at a slower pace, mostly due to the boots that were never meant for mud.

Meredith eyes Addison's footwear as her own striped rubber boots cut a clean path through the mud, and as her foot sinks, effectively trapping her, the other woman lets forth a trilling laugh as she tugs Addison out of nature's treachery.

"Look Mommy! Look at the shicks! I'm holding a shick!" Brecken calls as soon as she and Meredith enter. The small butterscotch animal struggles wildly in his fingers, but no desperate bid for freedom succeeds. Sugar crystals clung to the blooming pink cherub cheeks of her son, courtesy of the apple cider flavored doughnut clutched tightly in one fist. Gabriel is by his side, trying to catch a larger raven colored chick, and both boys turn with such wide, innocent smiles that each pump of her heart is accompanied by a shard of pain. They don't deserve this.

They end up sprawled in her lawn, Derek and Mark having a carving contest (their pumpkins were the same weight), Derek's Superman 'S' and Mark's Batman logo ensuring that they have no energy to spare to prevent their sons from stabbing each other with carving knives.

As a result, Gabriel eats the bright orange insides of his pumpkin and vomits on Milo's tail, contributing to the beautiful chaos that is life. She won't let anyone take this away from her. This is too precious, too fragile, too rare to lose.

*'~

_The scent of pumpkin pie tantalized him as he paced the tension laden atmosphere of Meredith's house. He hated the taste of it, just as he liked the idea of Derek's family visiting for Thanksgiving in theory but felt the literal juxtaposition of past and present wasn't such a hot idea._

_He was avoiding Lexie and Carolyn, on account of the intrinsic awkwardness, Meredith was avoiding Thatcher, who didn't know of her three months of pregnancy, while Thatcher was avoiding Derek. Mark was trying to help Addison avoid Nancy and Kathleen, but it was rather difficult considering she seemed to be avoiding everyone. He always secretly wished for a family but this was making him seriously consider screaming._

"_Mark!" Carolyn called, and he slouched into the kitchen with a lot less enthusiasm than he used to as a kid. "Take the turkey to the table, Mark, it's time to eat," she instructed before turning to her son. "Derek, you take the mashed potatoes. Be careful, they're hot."_

_They all gathered around the table, vying for the least awkward positions, and Addison reappeared, face paler than the eggnog being served as a prelude to Christmas. He had little time to be concerned, however, because as Thatcher reached Meredith with the wine, she gave an involuntary yelp and Derek knocked over his own wine glass, which was fortunately empty._

"_Um," Meredith said quickly, hands tangling in the tight fitting cream of her sweater as her gaze flickered from person to person. "I think I'll just have -"_

"_Oh, um, okay," Thatcher mumbled. "Here, let me -"_

"_Meredith," Carolyn interrupted, a sly smile on her face. "You're pregnant, aren't you?"_

_Mark could literally say the table froze for a few peaceful seconds before it erupted in noise. Nancy smirked as Carolyn pulled Meredith into a tight embrace. Derek grinned so happily Mark saw Addison's lips go as pale as fading roses as she pressed them together in the best semblance of a smile she could manage._

"_A toast?" Kathleen proposed, and her sisters Kristie and Annette were quick to follow. "To Baby Shepherd," everyone rumbled, and before Mark knew it he was clinking his wine glass against his wife's in celebration of her ex-husband's child._

"_How far along are you, dear?" Carolyn inquired of Meredith, whose mouth was full of turkey presumably to aid the growing baby within her._

"_Nearly three months now," Derek informed his mother with a grin, and for the next few minutes they were so immersed in nursery colors, potential weekends in New York, and arguments over the sex that Mark's heart literally began to pulse with hurt. He was trying hard to be happy for Derek but wanted the woman he considered his mother to look at him with the same pride and encouragement, but Carolyn had yet to speak a single word to Addison._

_He was staring with unbearable melancholy at the poor dead turkey when Addison stood abruptly and all but sprinted toward the bathroom. Sounds of retching ensued, and Mark hovered, half standing, half sitting, wanting to go after his wife but feeling obligated to offer an explanation as well._

"_You should probably go inform her that bulimia isn't healthy," Carolyn said offhandedly, and Mark snapped, shoving his chair so hard the impact echoed long after he had disappeared._

*'~

"Addie!" comes a call as the back door opens, and Addison finds herself nearly knocked off her feet as she is tackled by her excited friend. She spits a bit of Callie's charcoal hair away from her face as she hold the other woman at arms length, noticing the amber eyes filled with excitement. Arizona enters a little behind her, grin just as wide but maintaining a bit more composure.

Mark and Brecken appear, side by side, hair wet from their showers, identical looks of confusion on their faces. "It's happening!" Callie says when she finally gains the power of speech. "It's really happening, Addie! We got the call today!"

"Um, Cal, I love you even though you're suffocating me right now, but you're going to have to explain -"

"The adoption went through," Arizona interrupts, skylark eyes brimming with tears, and she holds out a photo to the trapped Addison, who takes it and examines the small boy pictured. He has hair the color of an unpeeled avocado, nearly as dark as Callie's, shining hazel eyes, and a face full of gentle swoops and angel-like grace. He looks around three, maybe a little older, and his clothes indicate he is not of American origin.

"He's beautiful, Cal," Addison breathes, grinning down at the small child who will become a playmate for Brecken and Gabriel as soon as he arrives in the country.

"He's from Greece and his name is Kostos. He's three and a half, loves boats, hates shoes, and Addie … he's my son!"

"He is," Addison agrees, pulling both the women into a hug, remembering the intoxicating excitement of awaiting a child. As Mark hugs the two new almost-parents as well, Brecken tugs her lounge pants until she shows him the picture of the beaming boy.

"Who's dat, Mommy?"

"This is a little boy Callie and Arizona are adopting."

"Do you think he'll like twains?"

"I don't know, Brecken, probably," and by the time she's finished her sentence Brecken has run off and returned with a few of his trains, which he dumps in a pile and returns for more.

When the toys reach his chest, he states, "These are what I'm sharin' with Kostos," and sits on the pile, watching the door excitedly, under the impression that his new playmate will arrive that night.

"That's very generous of you, Brecken," Mark says, "but Kostos won't be here for a few more weeks."

Before he can throw the tantrum she can see coming in his stormy countenance, Arizona interrupts and asks Addison and Mark if they can practice on Brecken and maybe put him to bed. The little boy runs off, nearly tripping in his white fleece pajamas, complete with orange, green, and blue dinosaurs, to get his favorite book, _Toestomper and the Caterpillars_.

"Toestomper lived alone and he liked it that way …" Arizona begins, cuddled up with Callie, who has her head on her shoulder, and Brecken, cinnamon head cocked to the side as he traces the page with one tiny finger.

Addison slips outside, where her husband lingers on their porch, a cup of scotch held precariously in one hand as he gazes up at the deep cobalt sky. His eyes, the color of a velvet morning, carry unshed moisture, and as she rests her head on his bare, feverish skin, she allows her own tears to fall onto his bare chest.

"I love you," she reminds him, because he hasn't looked this lost since she left him the first time, leaving him strewn in the broken glass of their relationship. They're not perfect, far from it, they have heated fights and passionate sex that nearly results in them getting caught by the child they made.

He turns and captures her lips, and they're dry and cracked but they're her drug. He's her antidote to the crappy things life piles on her and existing without him has never worked out well for her. Her hands cradle his head as he kisses her and she is thankful for the stronghold of his arms as her knees become weak and crystal tears that could belong to either of them drip down to produce shivers from their joined chests.

She'll do anything not to lose this.

*'~~'*

**I hope everyone had a great Thankgiving and a safe Black Friday. Please let me know what you think so far - if it's going too fast, too slow, whatever. Thanks for reading :)**

*'~~'*


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